The Mentor Bucket - Cognitive Behavioral Therapy - 11 Simple CBT Techniques to Strengthen Self-Awareness and Overcome Anxiety, Depression and Intrusive Thoughts (Cognitive Behavior Therapy - CBT)

COGNITIVE
BEHAVIORAL
THERAPY

11 Simple CBT Techniques to Strengthen Self-Awareness and Combat Negativity

Michael B. Stump
The Mentor Bucket

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

A s usual, I was awake at the crack of dawn. If my mind had been clear, I would have appreciated the quietness of the morning, the fresh air and the beauty that comes with the first light of the day. However, I did not want to get out of bed. No, I wasnt sleepy. I could not even remember the last night I had had more than a few hours of sleep despite being in bed by 9:30 p.m. each night.

That Wednesday morning should have been an exciting day for me. I was finally receiving the award for being the top CEO in the pharmaceutical industry. I should have been excited and proud for accomplishing such a feat at only 38 years old. I was at the top of the world, leading the most promising and innovative company in the country, yet there I was, sad and crushed.

I glanced at my wife who was doing her yoga on a mat on the balcony. I couldnt help but appreciate her beauty yet notice that the joy and light in her were fading. She was a bubbly girl, confident and ambitious with sparkling eyes. What remained now was a shell of the woman I met and married. She looked in my direction and upon seeing me, looked away. The few seconds that our eyes met, I saw the heartbreak, the suppressed anger and hatred.

I knew that look; I had lived through that look. It was the same look my mother had when she looked at my father. For a moment, the world stood still, my eyes opened, and my mind was clear. I walked to the mirror and looked at myself. What had I become? My wife hated me, my children feared me, yet, on the outside, I was the most celebrated man. As I looked keenly at my face, I noticed my hollow eyes devoid of any emotion, I hated myself.

On the day I was to receive a prestigious award, the day I had the stamp of success, and the day I had a dinner invitation from the president, I felt worthless. I felt empty and broken inside. Most times, when I felt weak, I would focus my energy on my work or anger. Anger gave me the strength I needed. For once in my life, I did not yield to anger; there wasnt enough left within me.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, tears began rolling down my cheeks. My heart broke, my life seemed empty as a lie. Only one question was on my mind: How did I get here?

My mind went to that young energetic boy running in the fields, feeling free. He could hear his mother calling for him to go home have a meal. She did not have to call twice. Her food had a reputation in the village of being the best. As he approached the house, he could see his sisters helping to set the table while his younger brother played on the mat. Just as the last fork found its place on the dinner table, he heard his father pull up the drive. The entire household seemed to run outside to welcome the man of the house. They all looked forward to their fathers arrival. Not only were there gifts but also stories and an evening filled with laughter and counsel.

Everything changed one evening. Father came home, but there were no stories or gifts, everything was solemn, and the young boy knew that something had changed. He, however, could not expect the magnitude of the change.

I quickly collected my thoughts, wiped away my tears and went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Standing in the shower, I let the water flow and wash my feelings off, cleanse me of the burden I carried and make me free. Almost half an hour later I heard a soft knock on the door, I knew that my wife was wondering why I was taking so long. I was known as a stickler for time, and everything had to happen at a particular time, otherwise, there would be hell to pay if my tea was not at the right temperature.

At the office, everyone was excited about the award. Despite the excitement, there was something in the air, the same thing I felt at home: fear and tension. The staff came forward to offer congratulatory messages, but I kicked everyone out. I could not take it anymore. On my magnificent table, I broke down for the first time in years. I bared my soul, I felt so little, defeated, heavy, lost and alone...alone among hundreds of people. I sent a text to my wife asking her to come. She did not respond, and I knew I had pushed her away too.

In the bottom cabinet, there were some pills, the ones Dr. Elena gave me to help me calm down and, after the first two, I decided I needed more calm today than any other day. Filling my hand with the white pills, I drowned them with the waiting cup of tea and relaxed waiting for the calmness to set in. After all, it was better to end it all and have a peaceful life.

When I came to, I saw my wife seated beside me crying. She still looked beautiful, and I couldnt help but tell her. Relief filled her face as she called for the doctor. She held my hand throughout the examination and repeatedly whispered that everything could be OK. The doctor recommended that I go for therapy, which I adamantly refused. Therapy was for the weak.

Upon discharge, my wife took me home. That evening, she served the tea outside in the garden. It was a beautiful day. She looked into my eyes with concern and said she was listening. The girl can be stubborn when not scared. She urged me to talk to her and let out the devils within. The brokenness within me rose again.

With tears streaming from my eyes, I told her of my dad losing his job and slowly sinking into fits of anger. He felt incapable of taking care of us and instead of looking for something to do, another job, he accumulated anger at the world. He became a closet drunkard but maintained a face outside. My mothers family stepped in and set up a sweets shop for her, which my father claimed ownership, but hardly ever helped. With my mother taking care of the bills, my father got even angrier. He may have felt inadequate. That is when the abuse began. He would hit my mother so hard we were forced to go help her, lest he killed her. We were not spared of the beatings, either. He kept warning us to stay away from his fights with my mother.

The more I grew, the more I could not watch my mother get battered and my father praised for being an influential person in the community. I vowed to work hard and have so much money that I would never be like him. I focused my energy on school, made good grades and landed a scholarship. My mother and I were grateful, and she knew there was hope for the family.

One day I came home from the university and, as usual, my father, in his angry drunken state, descended on my mother with kicks and blows for serving him a cold dinner. I got in between them and, in the process, pushed him. He fell to the ground and hurt his head. He said that he would get his revenge. In the morning, mother did not wake up...it was all my fault.

We sat there, in the garden seat, sobbing. My wife hugged me and asked me why I carried that around for all those years. I told her I felt guilty for the death of my mother and, as a man, society did not allow me to show emotion or even talk about such things. Talking about pain and crying were for the weak. Men did not do so. She urged me to go for therapy and would walk through the journey with me. Although doubtful, I agreed. I was tired of being sick, tired, guilty and angry.

Initially, I thought therapy to be a waste of time. However, over time I have found myself. Having to look deep inside you will open your eyes to life as is. I have gotten an opportunity to face the pain inside me and chart the path for my life from a place of peace. I no longer need sleeping pills as the nightmares are gone. I have become a present father and a loving husband. I am still successful, and my business is growing each day thanks to me being more accommodating. I now receive innovative ideas from my staff without them worrying about being shouted at. I have gotten time to properly mourn for my mother and forgive my father. I chose not to give my father the space to turn me into him. I have control of my emotions and am no longer depressed. I am reborn.